


Touched (i'll never find someone quite like you)

by DarlingNikki



Series: November Prompts [6]
Category: From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series
Genre: F/M, First Time, Semi-Public Sex, Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 19:58:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2594531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarlingNikki/pseuds/DarlingNikki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a direct sequel to Your Kiss (like the devil's got your hand), taking place where canon picks up for Richie and Kate.<br/>She feels drawn to this man, who seems so familiar, but she can't remember why he's familiar to her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touched (i'll never find someone quite like you)

**Author's Note:**

> This is for my November Prompts challenge # 7, Role Reversal. This one ties in with day six's prompt, as it's a direct sequel, and it's a role reversal from how Kate sees Richie.  
> The title is lyrics from V.A.S.T's song Touched, which is a very Kate/Richie song in my head.  
> PS. I use a lot of dialog from episodes 4 and 6 in this story.

She always hesitates when Kyles says, “I love you,” before she replies. Kate knows what she did, and she can't bring herself to tell him what she did that night in a bar, with some strange man she can barely remember due to all the alcohol she drank. She should feel guilty, but it feels like a half remembered dream, or a story someone else told her, so she doesn't. Then Kyle shows his true colors to her, and she doesn't even other to feel guilty about her complete lack of guilt over cheating on him.

Daddy's a mess, and thinking about men she can't remember won't help him sober up. She pulls into the lot of the Dew Drop Inn, and she just hopes things get better. _It's not like things can get any worse, anyways,_ she thinks to herself. 

She hopes a dip in the pool will wash away all her troubles.

 

 

* * *

Kate ignores the phone when it rings. Dad's got nothing worthwhile to say to her, and the police report tells her more than he was willing to share. She gets in the water, it's cool, but it feels good considering how hot it is outside.

She floats on her back, eyes closed, shutting out the world around her. Visions of moments half remembered float behind her eyelids, Daddy praying over Mom, while she cries. Migraines, and lies, and she doesn't know what she should believe. 

“Are you okay?” There's a man standing at the edge of the pool looking down at her. Something about him feels so familiar, she looks over her shoulder and watches him pull a pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket.

“Can I have one of those?” Something about him is just so familiar, but she's not sure what. 

“Didn't your Daddy tell you never to do this?”

“Do what?” The spill out of her mouth, slowly.

“Talk to strangers?”

She is derisive at that statement, “My Daddy says a lot of things.”

She turns away and sits down, pulling her towel over her lap.

He looks at her, flatly, coldly, “You sure you're okay?”

So she tells him a truth, “You ever feel like your life and everything in it is just slowly turning upside down, like a ship flipping over in the ocean?”

He looks at her, meeting her eyes, “You have no idea.”

She looks away and brings the cigarette back up to her lips.

“You're not inhaling.”

That sentence sparks something, a memory from a barely remembered night, and she looks at him again. His eyes are so blue, so familiar, and she has heard those words before. She has heard those  _exact words_ before, so she repeats herself to see if he reacts, “I'm not a smoker.”

His face freezes for a second, and he looks closer at her face like he's searching for a truth hidden inside her.

It makes her uncomfortable. She squirms under his regard, and he says, “You seem like a nice girl.”

“How would you know? I could be a terrible person.” She challenges him, arching her eyebrow.

“I pick up on things.”

“Oh yeah? What other kinds of things do you pick up on? Underage girls?” She smirks at him. She's sure this vague familiarity isn't a coincidence, this is the man she met before, five months ago in a dark bar.

“That would be despicable.” He laughs at her, like they're sharing a private joke, and she knows, that this is him. His name was...Randy, maybe? Or Reid? She can't remember. She drank too much and all she remembers for sure his is eyes, dark and looking up at her like she could save him, like she was the only thing in the whole world that mattered.

The words he's saying to her take a creepy turn. She's uncomfortable, and he's off, different than she remembers him being. He's talking about things he has no right to know. He has no way of knowing, her fears about her father, what happened to her Mom. No matter how she felt that one night, this is strange, and she just wants to go hide. She gets up and runs back to the room, with his final words of, “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to,” following behind her.

 

 

* * *

She was wrong; she was so wrong. Her thoughts of things couldn't get worse, were so wrong. Her entire family's being held hostage, by the very man she had thought she'd had a connection to and his brother. They've threatened her, they've terrorized her family. Everything has gone sideways, and her life is indeed a sinking ship and she's going to drown. There's no way out, and they may be over the border, but Richie keeps watching her. He can't seem to keep his eyes off of her, and she can't keep her eyes off him either. He'd been so kind that night, and now he's done a complete one eighty on her.

If she wasn't so afraid, she'd probably cry, but she's past tears right now.

Is he right? Is all of this happening for a reason?

 

 

* * *

Kate peeks around the doorway and watches the woman grinding on Richie's lap, moving her boy in ways Kate had never really thought of as possible before tonight. He waves her away when he sees her. Flatly, “What do you want Kate?”

“I need your help,” she folds her arms against her chest, “I need you to get us out of here.”

“I'm sorry,” and he truly looks sorry as he says it, “It's not up to me.”

It's not enough. “You don't need us!” She's desperate, “Let us go!”

“I don't want you to leave.” His focus is on her, lazer intensity, “I want you to see what I see.” He goes on, about how she needs to stay, and she begging, and she's not sure why, but she leans in and touches their lips together. It's just like the first time, gentle, soft, chaste, and it lights the fire that Kate hadn't felt since the first time she met him.

She pulls back, “Set me free.” 

It feels like someone else's words are falling from her lips, and Richie looks at her with the wonder his eyes had held before, one night that seems closer right now. “Why did you say that?”

If she closes her eyes, she can pretend it's still that night. So she does. She closes her eyes and leans forward and presses her lips back to Richie's. She pulls back again, looks at his face again, and finally has the courage to mention the night that they'd shared before, “Do I still taste sweet?”

He blinks. “It is you.” He pulls back and looks at her face, “You're the girl from that night,” he raises his hand and plays with a stray strand of her hair. “It is fate.”

The hand that was playing with her hair, grips and pulls her closer, and their lips are meeting again open and wet and filthy. She moans against him, and lets herself be pulled onto his lap. She can feel him, hard against her leg. She swings her leg over his lap and brings her core to rest against his hardness, and she grinds herself against it.

The sounds from the bar fall away, and it's like they're in a separate world from the loud strip club. She can't hear anything but the sound of her heartbeat and Richie's soft moan of appreciation.

It goads her further. 

She undoes the first button of his shirt exposing more of his skin. She kisses down his neck, and continues to undo more of his buttons. She kisses along the trail of skin, until she reaches his undershirt. She licks back up the smooth column of his neck to mouth along his jawline, as she pulls frantically at the hem of his shirt, untucking it from his pants. She's desperate to uncover more of his skin, to get closer to him.

She wants to crawl inside of him, and he seems happy to let her try. He pulls back, and his unhurt hand is helping her push his coat and shirt off. She pulls his undershirt over his head and drops it to the side. Her hands pull her henley off, and he smiles as his unhurt hand traces the edge of her gray and white striped bra. “That's cute.” 

She reaches behind her and undoes the clasps on the bra, and lets it fall off of her onto his chest. His eyes are dark, so deep, and she can't look away from him. Something about him captivates her, draws her in.

His eyes trace over her form, and she pulls back, and hastily pops the button on her jeans open. She unzips them, and he's watching her. His gaze is as focused as a predator as he tracks her movement. She kicks off her shoes, and bends down to slide her jeans off of her legs, before she climbs back onto his lap. Her skin feels heated, and she can't stop running her hands along Richie's bare chest, tracing over the tattoo over his heart.

She laps her tongue over his pecs, and traces the lines between his abs. He grabs her shoulder and pulls her back up to him. “Are you sure?” 

“Yes, Richie.” She smiles softly at him, “I want you.”

His smile is genuine and full of a boyish charm that Kate had only saw him display a few times before. He grips her waist and flips them, so she spread out on the couch underneath him, and he's looming over her. Her hands move to his belt, and fumble for a second before getting it open. His eyes meet hers, and his hand is reaching down to help her open his fly, and pull his penis out. She tentatively runs her fingers over it, she's never actually touched a man's penis before, even though she's saw one before in thanks to her best friend's fondness for the five finger discount from a gas station. His eyes flutter shut, and he's dropping small kisses on her cheeks, on her brow. Her fingers wrap around his cock and lightly stroke up and down. His forehead rests against hers, and in a strangled voice he says, “Babydoll, if you really want to do this, get my wallet out of my back pocket.”

She's slightly confused, but she does as he asks, he raises up onto his knees, and she hands it to him. He fumbles with it for a second, but then he grins triumphantly and shows her a foil wrapped package.

“Oh, I didn't even think of that.”

“You should be more careful, Katie-cakes, you don't know where I've been.” He's teasing her again.

He opens the package, and rolls the condom over himself. She decides to tease him back, “You're right. Who knows how many underage girls you've picked up? You seem to be making a habit of it.”

He lowers himself back down before replying, “You know it's not like that. Babydoll, you're very special.” He presses his lips against hers again, just like their first kiss, and she feels that connection with him all the stronger. 

“I know. I feel it too,” she whispers softly against his closed lips. He kisses her again, this time it's like he's drowning. It's like he's trying to make a home inside of her skin, and she's gasping against him. If she holds on, maybe the ship will stop overturning.

His hand reaches between them, stroking her clit, pinching and twisting, and it doesn't take very long at all for her to shudder and cry out in ecstasy. Then she feels his hand move away from her, and the head of his cock is right against her entrance, rubbing up and down through the slick. It may actually feel better than just his hand did, and her hips buck. “Shhh...got to make sure you're good and ready.”

Finally, he presses in. It doesn't exactly hurt, not like her more adventurous friends had described it, it's a pressure pushing in slowly inch by inch, until his pelvis is flush with her body. He continues kisses her, and doesn't move, giving her time to adjust, but it's not enough and she starts to move her hips, trying for something. She's not sure what, more of the feeling he'd giving her with his mouth once or with his hand a minute before, but she knows if she moves, he'll show her.

He pulls back, then pushes back in, and oh, that's it. That's exactly what her body was telling her she wanted. She bites at his lips, forgetting to be gentle, and he groans and picks up his pace. In and out, he presses against her, and she grips his hair, the back of his neck, she runs her hand down his spine, seeking to touch every part of him she can. She sucks on his neck, right against his jugular vein.

His thrusts into her grow rougher, less steady, more erratic, and he's whispering something against her neck. She can't make out what he's saying, and right now she's on the edge of a feeling that makes it so she doesn't actually care.

Everything is right in her world as long as he doesn't stop moving with her.

He thrusts one last time, and she's over that ledge into the inky waters of an abyss floating in the sensations quaking through her body. He's still inside her, and she can feel his flesh softening, but he's pressing sweet kisses along her jaw, and she just relaxes boneless on the couch. 

Her eyes slip closed, and she's so comfortable that she could stay right here, in this moment, forever, but someone clears their voice from the doorway and her eyes shoot open and dart frantically to see who's standing there.

It's Seth, and he's not looking happy.

“You've got to be fucking kidding me.” His eyes are dark, and he looks like he's ready to stride over and hit Richie. “Kate, get fucking dressed and get out.” Richie lets her up, and she holds her arms up in front of her chest. The contentment she'd been feeling is rapidly souring in her stomach, and she hastily follows his directions, pulling her clothes on, and heading towards the door. 

Richie's hand grabs her arm as she's brushing past him to leave though, holding her in place. “Seth, whatever you've got to say to me, you can say in front of Kate too.” His voice isn't the soft one he'd used when they we're alone together, it was steel.

“Fine, you want to do this with her here, fine.” Seth runs a hand through his hair. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He's speaking loudly, not quite yelling, but getting close. “What happened to 'We're not deviants; we're bank robbers'?” He doesn't wait for Richie to respond, “Fucking an underage girl, that happens to be our hostage, is pretty damn deviant, Richie.”

Richie's hand starts running up and down her arm, “She's special. She understands me.” His arm loops possessively over her chest, and Kate's scared again. “She's coming with us.”

“The fuck she is!” Seth looks out the door, and the bartender is standing there.

“You need to take your seats,” he glares at them, “the show's about to begin.”

Seth looks them over again, “This isn't over, Richie. She's going to leave with her family after this deal is done. I may be a bastard, but I'm not a fucking bastard.”

Richie drops a kiss against her ear, and tells her, “I won't let him take you away from me.”

She's scared, and honestly, a little glad his arm is wrapped around her, holding her up because it suddenly feels like the floor has dropped out from beneath her.

**Author's Note:**

> pinkglitterygoth.tumblr.com


End file.
